Arena (mtg) by William R. Forstchen

Author:William R. Forstchen [Forstchen, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_fantasy

***

“You played good joke.”

Garth smiled, forcing himself to stay awake as Naru poured another round of drinks. The giant looked over the side of the table at Hammen, who lay passed out on the floor of the feasting hall, and laughed.

“Old man weak and now he stink bad,” Naru laughed.

Garth tried to nurse his drink along, his head swimming, wishing that he had control of one of the rare spells of curing drunkenness.

“Oh, but that bad trick you play on Naru.” The giant looked down into his drink and shook his head.

“Sorry, but if you remember, we were fighting at the time.”

Naru looked over at Garth and his eyes narrowed for a moment as if he was struggling to decide whether One-eye was a friend or not. His features finally relaxed.

“You beat Grand Master and return my spells. You still my friend.”

Garth nodded, having gone through this discussion more than a score of times in the last several hours. Naru started to pour another drink, looking at Garth sadly when he realized that his new friend was not keeping up.

“Too bad I’ll beat you at Festival.”

“Of course.”

“Naru hear people say Grand Master will declare final fights to be to death.”

Garth stirred and looked over at the giant.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, Naru have friends. Grand Master do this more and more to make mob happy.”

“Why don’t you and the others refuse?”

“Can’t. Grand Master is Grand Master of Arena. When in arena can’t say no.”

“What about the House Masters?”

“Oh, they make good money from it, pay back of contracts, so they happy.”

Naru chuckled.

“Besides, Naru like breaking bones. Get many spells and mana from fallen, even though Grand Master keep part.”

The giant looked back at Garth and sighed.

“Too bad I must break your bones. I think I still like you.”

Naru raised his goblet to drain it, the movement setting off an inertia that kept the giant moving backward so that he fell off the back of his stool. He crashed to the floor, emitted a single belch, and passed out.

“One-eye.”

Startled, Garth turned to see Kirlen, the House Master of Bolk, standing in the doorway. The woman was bent over with age, hair long since gone from white to a sickly yellow, her wrinkled skin hanging loose on her face as if it had already lost hold upon the bones of her body. Her black robe clung to her slender frame as if she were a skeleton held up only by the staff she leaned against, holding it with both of her gnarled hands.

Garth slowly came to his feet and she motioned for him to follow her. Garth looked down at Hammen, who was sleeping alongside Naru, and realized that there was nothing he could do to rouse his friend. Moving carefully, so that he would not fall down, Garth stepped out into the corridor and walked behind Kirlen as she shuffled down the hallway and turned into her private quarters. The room was overly heated from a roaring fire and she went over to it, extending her hands and rubbing them.

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